


A Step Further

by Vyxen



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Im trying my best, Pokemon Battles, Post-Game, Raihan's selfies, Reader mains poison types heehee, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Some fourth wall breaking, Zacian and Zamazenta get female pronouns bc the pokedex called zacian zamazenta's sister so, and his teeth, im determined to finish a multi chapter fic, this one especially bc im thirsty for raihan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyxen/pseuds/Vyxen
Summary: A T Y C H I P H O B I Anoun.1. The fear offailure.
Relationships: Hop/Yuuri | Gloria, Kibana | Raihan/Reader, but theyre kids its a crush dont make it weird :(
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. 00 - Begin

**[ November 15th, 1:17pm - Slumbering Weald ]**

A shrill cry echoed in the mist.

A set of footsteps; another. Dirt, leaves, twigs— all were disturbed beneath them. The fog sat heavy on the minds of these children, even before She appeared before them, because it always did. It had to. When they collapsed, She only padded closer, head dipping to check on them. Their quiet breaths dusted over the earth below. They were not hurt, then; merely overwhelmed. Good.

Her head snapped up. More footsteps, but further away, this time. Another had entered. He was stronger, but not strong enough. He was not meant to _see._

“Hop! Gloria!”

Ah.

She stared in the direction of Leon’s silhouette for only a moment, sparing Hop and Gloria a final glance. She would shield them no longer.

As Galar’s champion rounded the corner, Zamazenta stepped into the mist and disappeared.


	2. 01 - Connect

**[ March 20th, 12:34pm - Hulbury ]**

On the day you arrived in Galar, the rain was pouring.

Thunderstorming, to be exact. It was spring, and despite the season’s warmth, the weather was as temperamental as the ocean. You really should’ve expected it; you’d arrived in the region of Galar where the gym leader specialising in water-type pokemon had settled herself, after all. You’d never met her. You imagined she was equally as unpredictable and wild— at least personality wise. You’d certainly kept an eye on her battle style.

Really, they should have known better than to air the battles on television. It gave their challengers an edge. But… Well. A lot of their challengers were also young teenagers, so that was fair enough. Not that the gym leaders were old—

You sighed. You were frazzled already. The ship had barely even pulled into the docks.

_(You imagined a lot of people might’ve been frazzled after being told, before leaving, that they weren’t allowed to take certain pokemon into the country. Pokemon conservation, and all that—_ _you were still sore about having to leave your beloved Dragalge with your mother.)_

The prospect of stepping out into the rain made you stare lifelessly at the docks. The fact that you’d then have to travel to Hammerlocke was even less appealing. At least it was only a relatively short train ride away; you’d read, somewhere, that not all the towns had stations. You thanked Arceus that they hadn’t decided to hold the charity battle anywhere unreachable, but still, you dreaded more travel right after the long boat ride.

You reminded yourself that it was a good thing you were doing. Even in Alola, news had reached you — had reached everyone — about the giant, rampaging pokemon that had damaged each town. A group of trainers (including their current and previous champions) had rapidly gotten everything under control, but reconstruction still took time, and it took money. The region was working its hardest to recover.

_(You remembered hearing passing news of Chairman Rose’s trial.)_

Really, though, what better way to recover than to encourage tourism? What better way than to host a charity event? You wouldn’t have passed up on the opportunity for the world— and of course you hadn’t. You’d even had to grab proof that you’d completed the Island Challenges. It was a whole lot of work just for a charity battle competition, honestly. You were surprised the Alolan champion, Elio, hadn’t volunteered, but he’d remained satisfied and stubborn about having found his place.

_(He really was a tough kid. You were surprised that Alola’s easy-going atmosphere hadn’t rubbed off on him.)_

You sighed again, watching your breath fog in the air. Pulling up the hood of your raincoat and making sure your hair was covered, you stepped off the boat with your suitcase and pokeballs and sprinted for the station.

⤜⤍ ⤜⤍ ⤜⤍

**[ March 20th, 1:59pm - Hammerlocke ]**

Hammerlocke was roaring with activity. As you’d expected, really. It was hard to imagine the opposite given the circumstances; change in authority, construction workers and aids all over the place, strangers from other continents with prestige and battle history of their own coming to visit… There were some faces _you_ recognised, too. There were ex-gym leaders from other countries that had arrived to participate, well into their fifties but chewing at the bit to find themselves in another battle. You thought anyone who’d battled before found it difficult to distance themselves from it.

You understood. You felt the same way.

To be fair, you weren’t very well-known. As a woman in your early twenties, anyone would’ve been hard-pressed to recognise you as the girl who had been a trial captain back on Alola over ten years ago. Frankly, the passion had never died, even when you’d eventually given up your spot to your youngest cousin. Your battles against each other never ended, either— not even once they became one of Alola’s elite four.

Acerola was still yet to beat you, and that was how it was going to stay.

Although there were a few reporters hovering around, you doubted you would be stopped at all. They were far more focused on those from Kanto, Johto— with very little similarities in appearance to your young cousin, you were able to slip past, already thinking of the bed in the hotel room and longing for water that didn’t feel gritty when you washed your hair. You were well and truly sick of ships. In your distraction, you almost missed the children giggling and whispering amongst each other, looking at everyone around you with stars in their eyes. There was only one boy who glanced at you, though, and he paused. It took a moment— but then his eyes widened in surprise, in sudden understanding, and you almost smiled as he clutched his budew closer to his chest.

“Wait, guys, I think that’s—”

You slipped through the hotel’s doors before he could finish his sentence, an odd little warmth to the apples of your cheeks. It didn’t matter that he’d probably recognised you as Acerola’s cousin; you had a few battles between you floating around the web, you knew. But still…

Still. Someone knew you, here. Someone in this forward place, wracked by tragedy and with enough heart to fight back and rebuild, knew enough about little old you from little old Alola to recognise you on sight. It didn’t matter if he’d only known you because of someone else.

For the fire in your spirit, it was enough.

⤜⤍ ⤜⤍ ⤜⤍

Your good mood, of course, lasted for maybe all of four minutes.

You were disappointed, but not surprised. Bad luck had a habit of following you everywhere and your friends back home liked to joke that karma had a particularly strong vendetta against you. They said you were too nice, so there were no bad deeds to catch up on, and you got what was coming to you in return especially quickly. You thought it was ridiculous.

 _(Once, though, in high school, you’d made fun of a classmate’s really bad moustache_ — _and then immediately tripped down the stairs. It didn’t seem so ridiculous after that.)_

There was an argument in the lobby.

A _loud_ one.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re disturbing our guests. Your enthusiasm is understandable but—”

“Listen, mate, I don’t care about there not being enough room! The rooms next to our gym leader’s ‘ave gotta be empty so she can get some proper rest and properly _destroy_ in her exhibition battles, yeah?!”

If the black and pink clothing, spiked hair and posters hadn’t gotten your attention in the first place, the sheer _volume_ the group of people produced from their mouths alone would have picked up the slack. You felt the dark bags under your eyes sink deeper into your face in comparison to their energy. You debated, briefly, pivoting on your heel and walking back out. But then you would’ve had nowhere to sleep. If you’d had to, you would’ve willingly killed a man to get some rest in a bed that didn’t come with a ship attached.

And you never really could keep yourself from speaking up, could you?

“If you don’t shut your mouth, _no one’s_ gonna get any rest, your beloved leader included. Now do you mind letting me check in and get some sleep?” You were sure your expression was as sour as your voice sounded. They turned to look at you and you only strolled forward casually, sneakers barely making a noise on the carpeted floors. “A lot of us just got off a boat, man. I doubt anyone plans on blasting music or screaming at full volume like you lot. I just wanna check in and pass out.”

In your grey sweats and crop tank, you were sure you were probably quite the sight. You looked like you’d just rolled out of bed— or maybe a cardboard box. Your hair was in an oily bun, and the last time you’d smiled was before you’d left for Hammerlocke, so you probably looked like you’d have stabbed someone for a couple pokédollars.

In all honesty? You might’ve. Particularly these guys, if they put a hold on you correcting your jet-lag. Or boat-lag. Whatever it was.

The leader of the _(group? Gang? Fanclub?)_ crossed his arms. “Listen, we’re here to _cheer on_ the competitors, but mostly one _special_ competitor, and anyone who gets in our way is lookin’ for a battle.” A sneer punctuated his sentence, but then he blinked. Cleared his throat.

The poor receptionist looked like he was sweating, and he laughed nervously, hands up as a placating gesture. “Now, now, there’s no need for that in here,” he wheezed, his voice a couple notes too high, likely in response to your expression (which screamed _murder murder murder murder mur_ —) _._

Your finger twitched towards your bag. Toxicroak would have a field day. You grabbed his ball with a small hum, tossing it up in the air and catching it with a gri—

“Are you lot doing this again? Really?”

Thrown off, each and every one of them turned and stared at the owner of the new voice, the aggressive atmosphere you created having vanished immediately. The group of loudmouths even looked sheepish. You blinked. Slowly, slowly, you spun on your heel. You put Toxicroak's ball away and let your hands fall harmlessly at your sides as you took into account the boy who’d just walked into the door, a hand on his hip and shaking his head. Tan skin, dark hair, dark eyes… The younger brother of the previous champion, if you’d remembered your research correctly. What was his name? Hup? Hope?

“I should’ve known when we heard the shouting.” While his glare at the rowdy group was less than kind, the glance he offered the concierge was far more sympathetic. _Hip? Hop? Hop!_ You knew you remembered. “Sorry. We would’ve been in faster had we not been held up.” He gestured haphazardly to the group of reporters and famous battlers just outside.

‘We’ broke your focus. Your brows furrowed, and you glanced just a little bit further behind him—

And, of course, there was the Galar region’s champion, stone-faced and with eyes like a dead fish.

_Great._

What was the karma getting you back for _this_ time?

With all the apologies and chattering going on, you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to look away from the young champion and her friend. Hop had done most of the talking, that was true; but that girl had _no presence_ and a _terrifyingly strong_ presence at the same time. That empty sort of composure just didn’t suit a thirteen year old girl. Hop was about that age as well, you remembered, but he was bright and honest and lively. Gloria’s energy was comparable to that of a graveyard in comparison. You didn’t like it.

Her eyes slid in your direction and you shuddered. And then you remembered that it probably would’ve been beneficial to have been _listening_ to the conversation rather than just staring outright. You were a creep. You were a creepy woman in her twenties staring at a preteen. Great.

“... and I really didn’t think they would do this to challengers out of state— oh! You’re one of the challengers then, aren’t you?” Hop was your saviour and you considered kissing his cute little cheeks. Although you supposed you couldn’t really call him _little,_ since you were about five foot _flat_ and he had a couple inches on you—

He stepped into your vision and smiled. You’d seen that smile before; in videos of the previous champion’s battles, and in photos of him, and now you’d seen it on the face of his younger brother. There was a touch more warmth, a touch more innocence in it, when it was Hop.

You wanted to cry.

“That’s right,” you finally said, careful to keep your voice level. “I saw what happened with the chairman and everything, so I wanted to step up. What you guys did was really amazing. Honestly.” And they did; they were two of the bravest kids you’d ever met, right alongside Elio. You crossed your arms and cocked a hip. Rather than an attempt to close yourself off, it was a way to remain casual. “As for the exhibition matches, there’s really not much else I can do to help, but I can put on a good show.”

Hop was a little pink, and his answering smile was as kind as it was polite and flattered. “I’m sure you’re plenty powerful! You might be hard-pressed trying to beat Gloria though.”

The aforementioned champion simply blinked at you. You blinked back. “Probably,” was your response.

At least you were honest.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” Hop patted you on the arm, that smile of his still present, and it kind of felt degrading to be cheered up by a kid, but the thought counted. “I really do look forward to seeing your matches. And you lot—” He turned to the team of loud misfits. You’d honestly forgotten they were there. “—better behave, or I’m telling Marnie.”

Nodding to himself and puffing out his chest, he glanced at Gloria. She offered him a tiny smile (it made her look _human,_ and it made her _look her age,_ that tiny thing), and suddenly he was hiding the red tips of his ears, scratching at the back of his head and looking shyly at the floor. “Well,” he said, “we’ll be off. Best of luck, miss! Be sure to do some training in the Wild Area these next few days. Best to get some experience before the tournament, hey?”

And then he and Gloria were gone. You stared after the two for only a few moments, and then righted yourself, politely accepting the sheepish apologies of the punk mob (who had introduced themselves as Team Yell) and _finally_ speaking to the poor receptionist about your room number and reservation.

This was going to be an interesting few days. For now, though, you just wanted to get into your room, change into your pyjamas, eat dinner, and sleep.

The rest of Galar could wait until morning.

⤜⤍ ⤜⤍ ⤜⤍

**[ March 21st, 3:47am - Hammerlocke ]**

  
  


_Hey— can you hear me?_

_._

_._

_._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the game(s) Sword and Shield, Gen 8 has a lot of pokemon omitted, so to fit that in cannonically, I've just said it was an animal conservation thing.  
> 2\. This might end up a little more like disjointed scenes all in order, since I don't want it to be super long and I suck at filler. weeps.  
> 3\. short reader!! short reader!! why? because I'm short. She also has curly hair. She will never be named within this fic, and there won't ever be any 'y/n' or '___' type of things, because i find that kinda takes me out of the story a little. Hope you guys don't mind!!  
> 4\. In the end, I see 'Gloria' as a _player character,_ and so I'm writing her personality as a nod to that. because technically we played the game. but we're not that character anymore, we're another. And so im kinda writing Gloria to be mostly emotionless, but with moments where she actually seems like a normal kid around the other characters (because I loved them all to bits and pieces and I like to think that kind of love lingers).


End file.
